


Save one

by LaMarwy



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Drama, Dating, Drama, F/F, First Kiss, Marriage Proposal, Missing Scene, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMarwy/pseuds/LaMarwy
Summary: "Save one life, and you're a hero. Save 100 lives, well then, you're a nurse."1. 1x06 missing moments2. the 1x08 dream is not a dream anymore and has a twist3. A date at the drive-in with a surprise4. AUCollection of Mildred/Gwendolyn oneshots.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 31
Kudos: 178





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roy88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roy88/gifts).



> This is for my girlfriend who is crazy in love with these two: she asked me to write about this particular moment and speed things up because, honestly, it was a missing opportunity.

SAVE ONE

For many years Mildred had questioned her faith in God. She would often ask herself, as a child, why would anyone so powerful and kind let others suffer the way she and her brother Edmund had. Growing up, she’d learned to rely on herself, taking whatever she needed, be her own God and, occasionally, even doing His job, taking the life of an agonizing soldier when no superior being would give the final rest and peace.

Yet that evening… that evening, she’d been praying. She had found herself begging, to be exact, asking whoever could hear her, to spare Gwendolyn’s life after being shot. Perhaps she had been begging Gwendolyn herself because time hadn’t been kind to them and she had so many things to discover and explore. She still had to put her head around whatever they were: more than friends - could she dare say so? - but certainly not lovers or whatever was the next step ahead.

About what happened next, she couldn’t really say. Everything was blurred from the moment she yelled for help and they took Gwendolyn away from her lap, up until now, where she was staring blankly at her unconscious body after the operation, sitting on some uncomfortable chair which would squeak and crack almost every time she breathed.

She was out of danger, they said, but Mildred didn’t trust those doctors. How would they even know gunshot wounds? They treated mental illness, after all, apparently only Huck and herself - and some of the patients, of course - had known war, bullet wounds, and what an explosion could cause. She’d seen young men dying for much less than a bullet wound, because they would run out of medicine and a small cut would get infected, gangrene spreading like a plague around the body.

Mildred had to remind herself she was not on the front anymore. That she was in a hospital - although a mental one - and they would simply not run out of medicine. Gwendolyn was safe and she would’ve pulled through.

After all, Mildred wanted to tell her things to make the wall around her, the one she’d built up throughout the years with so much effort, collapse. Because Gwendolyn might not know suffering as she did, but she surely knew some: living in the shadows, refusing her own nature, fighting against a false facade every single day to survive in a world that would’ve locked her up in a blink and make her endure tortures in the mere attempt of curing the disease.

They said that the doctors and the nurses working inside asylum eventually go mad or are the craziest of them all. Was it true? Was she going insane?

She inhaled sharply, fighting back the tears. Gwendolyn deserved to know the truth and she needed someone to share her burden. If she really meant to have a try with her, the woman wouldn’t run or judge.

She knew that some patients could hear even in their induced slumber, yet knowing she was unconscious gave Mildred the courage to tear down the thick walls around her, even for a moment.

«Gwendolyn,» she whispered, even though they were alone, «I haven’t been totally honest with you. But now… I know I can’t go on without telling who I really am.» She took a breath, knowing she was only half-way through the hardest part. «You’re the first person I feel I can trust. I’ve never told anyone because I didn’t want to tell anybody, until now...» She cleared her throat, blinking away a few tears. «When you got shot, I thought I might lose you, the only one I could ever tell my secret, and I can’t keep lying to you.»

Mildred took the final breath, the one she used to fill her lungs with air so she could reveal her secret in one time, but she froze instantly when she felt Gwendolyng squeezing her hand back, stirring out of her sleep. As if she was coming back to life, the woman squirmed and moaned, and Mildred stood there in wait, mesmerized, impatiently waiting for her to pull herself awake.

The doctors said she would, but Mildred never thought she would come back so quickly: in fact, she’d prepared herself to stay and watch her overnight.

She watched as Gwendolyn tried to talk, but the tubes and the medicine wouldn’t let her.

Mildred shushed and rubbed circles on her arms to make her feel safe.

«You’re alright.» She said soothingly. «Don’t try to speak. Rest.»

Mildred waited until she watched her faintly nod, and only when she was absolutely sure Gwendolyn was calm, she left the room to alert the doctors.

She stood there in a corner not to get in the way of anyone and attentively supervised everything that was going on. They ran tests and asked her basic questions to evaluate her memory and consciousness, ordered her to keep her hydrated so that the drugs would leave her body fast, and finally assured her she would be up in no time. In the meanwhile, of course, she was to stay there.

Mildred waited for the doctors and nurses to leave the room, then cautiously let herself fall into the squeaky chair, eyes unable to stay in once place for guilt and embarrassment. How much did she hear, if she had indeed heard her speech? Would Gwendolyn ask for details and the much-needed explanation? She would lose everything before it had even started?

«How are you feeling?» She asked with a dim voice, wondering whether she could reach out and hold her hand once more. She decided not to overthink and just did that. She let out a breath when she felt Gwendolyn’s hand relax against hers.

«I’ve been better.» The woman replied through a weak smile. «I think it’ll be fun when the painkillers wear off.» She cleared her throat and drank from the water glass she’d been offered. «Has Tolleson escaped?»

Mildred nodded hurriedly. «Yes.»

«And the nurse?» Asked Gwendolyn, narrowing her eyes in pure despise.

Mildred hated her too, but she hated more herself for letting it all happen.

«She has escaped too.» She confessed, lowering her head. «I’m sorry.»

She could almost see Gwendolyn frown in confusion, hand tensing beneath her fingers.

«Whatever are you sorry for?» The woman seemed to be outraged. Of course, how could she know?

«Well, it was my idea to throw the party.» Mildred partially lied, not sure she was ready yet to confess everything now that the woman was fully conscious, weak, and still burning with legit rage. «And I let him partake. Uncuffed.»

«Mildred,» The woman’s voice was like a siren’s call to her heart. Without even knowing what she was doing, Mildred was now looking into the other’s eyes, searching for something, «you couldn’t know. It is not your fault.»

Mildred nodded slowly. Yes, the plan was different: no one should’ve died, no one should've been shot, Dolly wasn’t involved in the picture. It was her brother who had betrayed her. What was she supposed to do? Listen to Gwendolyn, believe that it wasn’t her fault despite providing him the razor and put on the show just for him? Was she still innocent? Would Gwendolyn still offer comfort if she knew all the story?

«The police will track them down.» She murmured, not really sure what to say. «And I’m glad you’re fine.» She swallowed, suddenly unable to bear her guilt and the impossibility to confess anything to the woman, and stood up from the chair, hands clawing at her purse and coat. «I should be going.» She announced in a quivering voice. «You need to rest.»

For a moment that looked like an eternity, she stood there without saying a word, then turned her back to Gwendolyn and headed toward the door. It was then that the woman spoke, though Mildred had lost all hope for that to happen, by now.

«Stay?» The woman whispered, half asking, half begging.

Mildred couldn’t help it. She froze, spun on her heels, and looked at her. Gwendolyn looked so fragile and small in that bed, but what moved something within her, was the glance that she’d seen one too many times: people scared, frightened by the faintest noise, who refused to fall asleep because the night was dark and the enemy was right out there. It was a distant blow of a bomb, inside her head, that snapped out from her memory.

«Stay?» Repeated Mildred dumbly.

«I’ve always loathed hospitals,» she murmured through a shy smile, «since I was a child and I got my appendix taken out.»

Relieved that for Gwendolyn it wasn’t a profound fear, but something similar to a whim, Mildred walked back to her and smiled through narrowed eyes.

«But this is an asylum.» She pointed out.

Gwendolyn gasped in amused disbelief. «And how is that better?»

Mildred bit the inside of her cheek, considering that, after all, she was right: asylums were definitely worse than hospitals. Maybe she was getting used to dealing with mad, terrorized, and desperate people that it had become normal.

«You should rest.» Mildred remarked, poorly hiding how glad she was to have been asked to stay over, and after setting her coat and purse on the table, she returned to sit on her chair.

«I will.» Gwendolyn promised, studying the woman for a moment. «You’re not playing on sleeping on that chair, are you?» She wondered, raising her brows.

«Where am I supposed to go?» Retorted Mildred with a chuckle. Realizing what the other meant, she tilted her head to the side, questioningly. Were they allowed? Not to mention that she could seriously hurt her, what would the nurses or the doctors think if they found them sharing a bed?

«These rooms are terribly cold.» Gwendolyn commented, shifting further down under the sheets. 

Mildred pursed her lips and slowly shook her head before working the courage to leave the safeness of her squeaky chair and join the woman on her bed. At first, she cautiously sat on the side examining the free space that was left for her anyway; she wouldn’t be cozy, but it was better than a chair.

Careful not to hurt her, Mildred removed her heels and placed her neatly under the bed, then lowered herself beside Gwendolyn’s warm body and propped herself on the pillow that was resting against the headboard. She exhaled and tried to relax, laying her hands on the stomach with a graceful motion. Finally, she closed her eyes, but not fully.

«Happy now?»

«As a matter of fact, yes.» Replied Gwendolyn with a triumphant smile that the other decided to ignore. «People say the most horrendous things about asylums at night.» She said, shifting around the bed. Mildred couldn’t exactly tell if she was moving away to make room for her or, on the contrary, the woman was trying to make herself comfortable by molding against her body, as much as her wound would allow moving. «Patients screaming and yelling… does it happen?»

«Sometimes.» Mildred confessed with a sigh. «But no one will hurt you.» She assured, and this time, she looked down at her, giving a reassuring smile.

Fighting the absurd need of putting her arm around the woman’s shoulders for some extra protection, she suggested to rest and, as if on cue, Gwendolyn yawned. They said  _ goodnight  _ to one another and fell almost immediately into a dreamless sleep.

It was early morning, just after the crack of dawn that Mildred woke up to a squirming Gwendolyn. She protested with a moan for her sore neck but immediately focused all her attention on the woman lying beside her. At first, she thought there was an infection spreading through her body, which explained her flushed skin and sweat around her forehead, soaking her hair, but then she realized she didn’t have any fever, and that she was still asleep.

«Gwendolyn.» She called, softly at first, but then louder. «Gwendolyn!»

Fearing she might tear up her stitches with one of her jolty movements, Mildred held her shoulders and shook her. «Gwen!» She called again. «Wake up, you’re having a bad dream.» She said and then proceeded to repeat the same words, and calling, like a mantra, hoping she would snap her eyes open.

_ Any moment now _ , she told herself.

When finally Mildred succeeded, she kept holding her still, as Gwendolyn, confused, clawed around her blindly, with no real awareness about what she was doing.

«Mildred?» She finally gasped, and the other woman nodded reassuringly, guiding her back, helping her lay down.

«You were dreaming.» She repeated and as she tried desperately to calm her down - her head was scanning everything that could harm her, such as high pressure, stress, sharp movements, and much more - she drew closer and kissed the crown of her head.

Taken aback by her own actions, Mildred detached her lips from her skin and cleared her throat. She never knew whether it had worked or it was the surprise that completely shut Gwendolyn out, but her breathing returned normal and the crisis stopped at once.

«I was at the party again,» mumbled Gwendolyn, eyes wide as she told the dream, «and the nurse shot me. Not once, though. She kept shooting at me, smiling and I- I felt everything, all over again, and then you came, but everyone started laughing at us.»

«That’s horrible.» Mildred frowned and without thinking twice now, she leaned down and hugged her, gently swaying as she wished someone would’ve done with her when she was scared. «But you’re safe now, I told you no one will hurt you. Not anymore.»

Mildred closed her eyes when she felt the woman relaxing within her hold, and rested her chin on top of her head. She had to admit it, it was nice, having someone to care for but who cared for her in return. Someone who didn’t only need her, but wanted her. She told Gwendolyn to go back to sleep, that she needed rest, that of course she would stay and hold her until she had to freshen up and go to work her shift.

«Will I find you here when I wake up?»

Mildred looked up, staring at one or the other dark corner in the room. Was she really about to promise that again, that she would stay, really  _ stay _ , to someone? She held her tight against her chest, feeling Gwendolyn's heartbeat against her own, her regular breathing crashing against her skin.

«Of course you will.» She nodded.

Around noon, Mildred sped down the familiar corridor carrying a tray, below it, her paper bag hanging loosely from one hand. Why do things always have to be complicated? She read each number on the doors and finally reached the room hosting Gwendolyn. She didn’t even bother knocking before bursting in but regretted her decision when she found a nurse there, busy checking on the wound. It wasn’t any compromising situation, but Mildred accused her own intrusion on a personal level: she bursting into Gwendolyn’s room without announcing herself nor asking for permission, bringing her lunch when clearly wasn’t her job to do so and, if that wasn’t enough, someone had seen it all. And Gwendolyn, she had that foolish smile on her lips that grew wider when she saw her entering and Mildred wondered, for a moment, if she was genuinely so delighted she wasn’t able to hide it or the medicine had gotten the best of her sanity.

«Thank you, nurse, I’ll take it from here.» She ordered with a firm voice, trying to look as professional as possible. The woman waited for the young nurse to leave the room, the door closed behind her back, to finally put herself at ease. She released the tension and smiled at Gwendolyn.

«Good Morning.» The other greeted.

«It’s noon.» Pointed out Mildred through a smirk, walking toward her with the tray and sitting contentedly on her squeaky chair. «I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but there was an emergency in the other ward and I had to help, then my shift started and I couldn’t come to you.»

«It’s alright.» Gwendolyn muttered as she inspected her meal. «I wasn’t totally awake but I’d say… aware.»

«I thought you’d better rest.» Mildred explained, moving her glance from the woman’s face to the still untouched plate. It was warm - smoke was still coming up from the soup - and looked delicious; she was content with her favorite sandwich of course, but if she were allowed to eat one of the patient’s meals instead, she would accept it in a blink. «Is there something wrong? The food is top class, you know.»

Mildred stared at her while the woman looked down at her plate and absent-mindedly played with a pea, pushing it around the edges with a fork. She feared the worst, for a second, and gasped for air to ask what it was, but Gwendolyn preceded her, and Mildred’s question dyed in her throat, unborn.

«What were you trying to say last night?» Mildred gasped again for air, not really knowing what to answer. «I heard you, holding my hand and telling me you had a secret. Is that why you keep everyone away?»

«I do not keep-»

«Yes, you do. You even keep me away.» Gwendolyn rebuked. «You’re afraid?»

Mildred tightened her jaw. «I work here, Gwendolyn. I saw what they do to people like...»

«Us?» The woman tried, arching her brows. «You just have to admit it, you know I’m not ill, Mildred, and nor are you.»

Mildred bowed her head. No, she knew either of them was ill, or insane, for the matter. Because madness came from irrationality, it came from traumas and although she had several in her life, she could still recognize real feelings and emotions.

«You’re the sanest and grounded person I know.» The woman said barely above breathing. She felt fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up and so she did, shyly and frightened by the face she might’ve found there. Gwendolyn was staring down at her, eyes bright and shiny from tears.

«You know what the doctor said?» The woman whispered. «That if you weren’t there, pressing on my wound so fast, I would’ve bled to death.»

Mildred shut her eyes closed, struggling to cast away the horrendous image - and possibility - of Gwendolyn dying in her arms, glassy eyes and soft limbs, as she abandoned her forever. When she held her on the floor, cradling her head on her lap, it was there that Mildred realized she was wasting so much time. And now she was just going back to the beginning.

«I didn’t- I didn’t want to lose you.» She breathed out through a wet sob.

«You’ll lose me anyway if you just keep shutting me out.» Gwendolyn replied. Her voice was soft, but the message it carried was strong and true. «Listen, I don’t want to stop fighting for… whatever this is… but I’ll have to, eventually. Life’s too short and-»

«I have feelings for you.» Mildred blurted out, the words falling out from her mouth like droplets spilled from a jar. For a moment, she was frightened by her own words, the admission suddenly making her feel exposed, but now, after rationalizing the thought, she’d never felt freer: she was free to live her desires and even if she wasn’t yet free of her ghosts, she knew she would, someday.

She chuckled, disbelieving, and watched her own reflection glimmering into a pair of eyes green as a peaceful meadow that felt like safeness and home. Was she, for the first time in her life, home? For years she’d searched for a place to call that and had never realized it could be a person.

Mildred closed her eyes, took a small breath, and leaned forward. Almost immediately, a pair of lips meet her own. It was a shy contact at first, soft and salty because of the shed tears, where Gwendolyn let the woman test, and seize the sensation. She didn’t want to rush her, nor for Mildred to shut down her thoughts and dive in something she didn’t fully comprehend. Mildred had to be aware, and a willing, active, participant. So she gave her time. For that, of course, they had all the time in the world.

And so the soft peck became a kiss. Wet and even saltier, and something clicked inside Mildred. She was feeling everything, her heart slowly tawing to a newly found heat, special and unforeseeable. She’d never felt like it.

It was Gwendolyn who had free access to her soul and, with time, she would have access to everything Mildred was.

They separated only when they both needed air to breathe, but they both parted reluctantly from one another. Eyes closed still, Mildred leaned her forehead to Gwentolyn’s, breathing her scent in, making a mental note about her jasmine perfume that was fading away.

Maybe she was indeed crazy. Crazy like Dolly who had fallen in love with a patient. History repeating itself. Yet Dolly was a young, crazy in love who’d fall for a murderer and let him escape.  _ Crazy in love _ . Did she really think about love? Was she really like Dolly? After all, she helped the lesbian girl and the opera singer escape together, now it was no different: she just needed to let herself go.

«You’re a constant surprise, Mildred Ratched.» The woman commented, her hand searching up into her red hair, undoing the perfect coiffure.

Mildred couldn’t help but smile at the remark: she was a surprise for herself. Yes, Gwendolyn was the one. The one who could trust, the one who would find every piece of her broken soul and glued them back together.

Mildred was happy. Perhaps for the first time in her life, she was happy and satisfied with herself. She hadn’t lied, she’d just spoken with her heart and gained so much in return.

_ Save one and you’re a hero, save one hundred and you’re a nurse. _

She was a nurse, of course, but also a hero in a way because she’d saved the only one that truly counted. And in the process, without even realizing it, she’d saved herself too.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know it technically happened in a dream but - hey - why should we waste another opportunity?  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all thank my gf for giving me prompts and helping me with new ideas. Love you ❤︎
> 
> tumblr: @mementomori-demimonde

SAVE ONE II

Mildred kept staring at the horizon - not like any other normal human being looking at the fine line between ocean and sky, because she was giving her back to the sea, and her eyes, behind those dark sunglasses, were lost somewhere following the tiny cracks on the concrete wall - but she was staring at the horizon painted inside her mind. She could hardly acknowledge Betsy and Gwendolyn talking and chatting away, her whole body tensed for no apparent reason. Somehow, she knew something was off.

It was the same sensation she’s experienced her whole life as a child, that had dissipated through the years and now, silently, had come back, stronger than ever before - today, it seemed to have reached its peak. Once, it was the awareness of a doomed fate, being thrown into a horrible family and even when she entered what it looked like a dream house, deep down she felt something bad was about to happen, like a tug in her stomach. Growing up she learned that she’d lost all faith in humanity and she was fine with that.

Of course, things had changed a lot with Gwendolyn, especially since when they moved to Mexico. The sensation, however, didn’t vanish. She’d talked to Gwendolyn, of course, because she’d promised to share everything, the woman had suggested fighting that sensation with something more productive: a hobby, perhaps, anything that could fascinate her.

And so Mildred had thrown herself into poetry. In a month or so of staying, she’d devoured every English book she could find in the city bookstore and Gwendolyn had ordered more from a catalog. Mildred had the habit of memorizing her favorite one to repeat it in bed like a prayer, before sleeping.

Everything was fine, she could cope with her anxiety, she could enjoy life and she was thrilled to have Betsy visiting - she’d been thrilled until she actually arrived because then the anxiety came back.

And so as she laid unquiet on her chair by the pool, her mind kept repeating the poet, over and over again,

_ I had no time to hate, because _

_ The grave would hinder me, _

_ And life was not so ample I _

_ Cold finish enmity. _

Her lips moved in sync with her thoughts, but reached the end of the first section, she just couldn’t remember how it went on. She squirmed on her chair, ignored Betsy’s question once more, and squinted her eyes, trying to remember, but she just couldn’t.

She stood up quickly and took a sharp breath. “I have to find my book.” She said in haste. “I’ll be quick about it.”

“Darling, are you alright?”

Mildred barely registered the genuine concern in Gwendolyn’s voice, and nodded herself away, mumbling some incomplete excuses.  _ Nor I had- nor I had- _

The path back to their apartments seemed endless, longer than ever before. There were turns she didn’t expect to find, plants that she didn’t recognize, even the parrots and the squirrels chasing each other up to the trees seemed different and foreign. Confused, Mildred felt lost. She kept running, heavy steps up the cobblestone until she reached the familiar building, she inserted the key with trembling hands and unlocked the door.

Safe inside the apartment that had welcomed Gwendolyn and herself for so long now, a silent stage for their first times - kisses, love, fights, amends - she allowed herself to breathe. She closed her eyes for a moment, only a moment before looking around the room, looking for anything that might be misplaced. Deciding that everything was in order, she walked by the bedside table and grabbed her book. Her fingers flew on the pages, turning one after the other with frenzy motions.  _ Nor had I- nor had I- _

“Nor had I time to love; but since” She read aloud, her fingertip drawing an invisible line under the words, “Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, was large enough for me.”

She drew a shaky breath and held the book close to her chest. It made her feel calmer, but still, there was something amiss. She knew she’d been watched, she could feel eyes lurking… and she knew exactly to whom they belonged.

Siblings by blood or not, they had a connection. The same one she felt when she found Edmund, all those years ago, when she was able to recognize him over the grid fence in a blink. Mildred always knew when he was near. It was a twisted love that bound her to her brother.

She spun around, feeling queasy all of the sudden. She let the book slip out of her hold and flop on top of the bed, rather unceremoniously. The mattress wobbled under her weight. When Mildred could collect herself, she took a deep breath, looked around once more, and bathed into the tranquility of that apartment, begging for it to work: the white walls, the ocean outside the window, the swaying tree palms, and the parrots singing outside. Their own paradise, hers, and Gwendolyn’s. Perhaps she just had to  _ decide  _ she was fine.

She smiled to herself, collected every bit of courage she could find within her body and bent down to collect her book, which had landed under the bed. Mildred knelt down with an  _ oof _ , and reached blindly around, frowning when she couldn't touch anything similar to a cover right away. Instead, she touched something soft and, intrigued, she grabbed it and pulled.

When the mysterious object came to the light, Mildred could only gasp in surprise, her heart darting right into her throat.

“Do you like it?”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, her brother Edmund’s voice added to the picture, and she felt completely losing it. She lost balance and fell over, squinting her eyes to make out the blurred silhouette emerging from the open patio door, midday sun sparkling behind him.

“Edmund?” She said, but her voice came out as a wheeze.

“It’s your doll.” He murmured, without stopping his advance. “I’ve kept it all these years, you know.” He kept telling.

Mildred tried to get away as soon as she could, but her legs wouldn’t just cooperate. She backed in any way she could until the bed stopped her.

“I’ll scream.” Mildred threatened, hoping to gain some time.

“It’ll be useless, sis.” Edmund grinned and, in a flash, the blade that he kept close to his arm, sparkled at the natural light. “I’m here to settle up. I’ll kill you and then kill me, so we’ll stay together- as we  _ promised  _ each other all those years ago.”

“Edmund-”

“Tell me, how could you love that doll so much when it was given to you by those horrible pigs?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You cuddled to her at night and whispered to her instead of me.”

Mildred remembered and her eyes turned watery in an instant.

“I was just a girl-”

“And then you left-” He panted, on the verge of tears. “and you  _ left  _ us both.”

Mildred tried to put her brain to work. She was scared and she was in shock - seeing her brother after all that time, alive and about to slaughter them both to end his insane masterpiece of vengeance - but she could also seize the opportunity and use his weakness and their undeniable bound to her advantage.

“Edmund, put the knife down. We can work this out-”

“I named her Milly.” He said, unbothered, and smiled. “And neither she nor I can endure all this anymore. We’re damaged, you see, and you’re no better than us.” He said, pursing his lips, shaking his head faintly. “No. There is no other way, Mildred.” He chuckled. “I’m making you a favor.”

And then… then Mildred detached from her body and everything she saw was slowed down and so unreal to make her think she was dreaming. She heard glass shattering, she heard screams, she saw Edmund try to turn around, and Betsy - courageous,  _ crazy  _ Betsy - jumping on his back like a harpy, blocking him as she could, wrapping her fragile arms around his torso and locking her legs around his in a desperate effort. But Edmund was strong, and he was a monster and he was determined and careless. He freed himself and marched toward Mildred. She knew she was about to die, so she closed her eyes, and waited. Waited to feel the sharp pain in her chest, the flesh giving in like butter, she waited for her breath to cut, for life to slowly depart from her body… but nothing happened. From the small crack of her eye, she saw Gwendolyn rushing forward, screaming, placing herself right between them, blocking her sight. And then Mildred heard that pitched wail of pain, and a dull thud, and Betsy screaming even more and the men, talking, giving orders.

Mildred went back into her body in time to see four men carrying away Edmund in his homicidal spree, bloody eyes, gnashing teeth, inhumane.

She took a breath and felt like she was about to drown. So she gasped for air, wiping her eyes to get rid of the tears, and then everything she wanted and  _ needed  _ was to be held. To feel safe, just like after any nightmare, but it was that - a nightmare - to have comfort and to feel loved and-

“Gwen?” She called, and then saw red. She blinked in confusion, not trusting her own eyes because they’ve deceived her already in the past and that reality couldn’t simply be  _ true _ . She looked up and met Betsy’s glance, she too was in shock, on all four as she tried to push herself up, but then Mildred  _ followed  _ her glance, and she looked  _ again _ , and  _ saw _ , and  _ realized  _ it was all true.

“Gwen!” She tried to scream, but only a wheeze came out from her parted lips and tears started to pour down, even quicker than before, because she wasn’t scared for her life anymore, but she was  _ terrorized  _ by the thought of losing Gwendolyn - again.

She crawled to her and knelt by her side, eyes locking on her face, searching for a way - anything - to help. Gwendolyn was looking right back at her, seemingly untroubled. If it weren’t for the blade still protruding from the middle of her stomach and the expanding smear of blood soiling her summer dress, Mildred could’ve sworn she was just lying there, meditating perhaps, or getting ready to read a book in one of her weird places. She begged her brain to formulate a convenient thought, but none came to mind. Should she remove the blade? Or leave it there and avoid unstoppable bleeding?

Her hands were already ghosting above it, but she left it there, in the end.

“Mildred, are you alright?”

For a second, Mildred looked dumbly at her, unable to formulate a single thought. She’d just been stabbed - practically to death - and all was she concerned was  _ her  _ safety and not her own. Mildred shivered, shaking for love and immense gratitude, fear and so much  _ love  _ it hurt. And then rage.

Because everything was fine and she could’ve talked Edmund out of that, but she had thrown herself forward just to protect her. It was because of her if Gwendolyn was bleeding on the floor.

“Why must you always put yourself at the firing range?” She cried out, cupping Gwendolyn’s face with her hands. She wanted to hold her, but she thought it was better not to move her around too much.

Gwendolyn kept looking back at her and Mildred felt like she was trying to dive into her eyes as if she could create an invisible thread between the two, sew together their soul, something - anything - to cling to life; and so Mildred let her, hoping it would help. Hoping it would  _ work _ .

“I had to save you, Mildred.” Gwendolyn said, but her voice was subtler. A shade, no expert ear would’ve caught that, but she did, because Mildred had memorized her voice so well, knew the tone of each word by heart… And again, that rage. The same that perhaps she shared with Edmund, the rage she felt now because someone she loved had been hurt. If only they’d never met if only Gwendolyn wouldn’t show her all the pretty colors of life.

“You didn’t have to do anything!” She rebuked, now letting the tears fall free down her cheek because it was impossible to restrain them.

Behind her blurred sight, Mildred saw Gwendolyn smile and her heart sank.

“You don’t get to be the only hero here, missy.”

_ Oh God, oh God _ . Mildred bowed her head, unable to reply. She was going to lose her, she could feel it in her guts. She would be alone once again, and she would hate, despise, loathe Edmund because he took Gwendolyn from her and her life wouldn’t have meaning anymore, because she was nothing without Gwendolyn, the only one capable of keeping her together. Insanity was in her blood, would she become some monster out of revenge?

She choked on a strained sob and lowered herself down so she could stay closer to Gwendolyn, and keep her warm, because she remembered the soldier being cold,  _ so cold _ , in their final hours.

Mildred took a breath, imposed herself not to blatantly cry in front of her, and leaned her forehead to Gwendolyn’s. She felt the need of closing her eyes, making that moment somewhat special, but she didn’t want to, preferring looking into those eyes that had saved her so many times now, as long as she could.

“Are you in pain?” She asked tentatively, fearing the answer, whatever it might be.

“No.” Gwendolyn frowned as if she was surprised by her own words. “I’m not hurting.” She confirmed.

_ Oh God, oh God _ . Mildred searched for her hand, squeezed it, and drew it gently to her lips, kissing her skin fondly. Her heart sank even lower in the pit of her stomach at the sensation of cold and weakness she found there: why wasn’t Gwendolyn squeezing her hand back?

“She’s not going to make it!” Betsy’s hasty voice came out of nowhere, speaking the obvious truth that Gwendolyn wasn’t supposed to hear. She saw red again, and rage built from within her.

Mildred snapped and parted reluctantly from Gwendolyn. Before she could even acknowledge her actions, she was staring into Betsy’s terrified eyes, her hand tight around the collar of her shirt.

“You shut up, Betsy, you don’t know anything!” She yelled, realizing only when she realized, in a faraway corner of her brain, that she might’ve hurt the poor woman for real. She breathed hard and cried nonsense once more for good measure - because it wasn’t fair because it shouldn’t have happened, because why,  _ why _ , did Gwendolyn have to leave?

“I’ll make sure they’ve called the ambulance.” The older lady mumbled, standing up on wobbly legs and bolting out the door.

Mildred covered her face with her hand and breathed hard against her palm. She should’ve been strong but, no, she just couldn’t, not without Gwendolyn.

She collapsed by her side and buried her head in the crack of her neck, feeling comfort in the faint feeling of her pulse, vibrating from her throat on her cheek.

“Please,  _ please  _ don’t leave me.” She begged, her voice reduced to a choked lament, wet and pitiful, similar to a child desperate cry. The difference was that the Mildred had never cried like a little girl, not to beg for something anyway. “What would I do without you?”

In the back of her head, she knew Betsy was right. Gwendolyn was running out of time and with no imminent aid she would’ve died right on the floor. In her arms. It wasn’t right. They would’ve died wrinkled and grey, holding each other in their bed in Florida as the greatest storm of the Century would roar outside. Not like this.

Gwendolyn had always been the strongest, she had to pull through, she just had to. After all, she’d been to war, in the front, she’d seen people with blown-out limbs surviving, she saw people recovering from the most tremendous physical traumas. _ Gwendolyn would be fine, she would be fine _ .

“Stay with me, alright?” Mildred whispered, clinging to her, hoping she could stop her spirit from leaving her body just yet because it wasn’t her time. When Gwendolyn nodded tiredly, the woman looked at her and kissed her. Their lips brushed, touched, perhaps bidding goodbyes to one another.

_ This can’t be it _ . Mildred cupped her cheek, she held her tight.

The first bullet at the dance, the fear of being discovered, outed, locked into some facility, cancer, the flight to Mexico. They survived so much, and there was still so much to survive too, together.  _ I love you, Gwen, I love you, I love you. _

“You will be fine, Gwen.” She murmured, hoping that saying it out loud, could somehow turn mere words into truth.

Mildred felt gentle fingers reaching out, widen on her back, dragging her closer, soothingly, protectively, forever.

“Do you promise?”

Mildred nodded against her neck. She would do anything in her power for her to see the sunset, like they’d planned to do, sipping Margaritas with Betsy and they would see tomorrow’s dawn and the next, and the next for at least hundreds of years more. Or perhaps, it was just a dream, but she had to believe it was real. It was the only way.

“Cross my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Poem by Emily Dickinson.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, y'all thank my gf for the prompt :3 love ya!

SAVE ONE III

That evening was positively weird. After dining in one of their favorite restaurants in town, one of the many where they weren’t frowned upon, Gwendolyn had insisted on leaving earlier, but not to return home. She didn’t even ask Mildred if she wanted to drive and took the seat, inserting the keys and waiting with a playful grin.

Mildred watched her, unable to smile herself. She was keen on making presents and surprises, that childish enthusiasm she had within her that, sometimes, bloomed out without control, and Mildred loved the first part, as for the latter, she hated surprises by nature: she already had one too many, in her life. So she pleaded and begged to know more, but Gwendolyn refused to share any detail.

“You’re going to like it.” She only replied. “I promise.”

Mildred took a breath. She wasn’t scared, of course, she knew Gwendolyn and loved her and the woman wouldn’t do anything unpleasant, but she just couldn’t shake that odd sensation off.

Defeated, Mildred turned her attention to the panorama. It was a cloudless night in Mexico, stars were shining and pulsating around in their blue blanket still smeared in pink and orange and the moon, so big and bright, also shone on the side, sometimes hiding behind tall palm trees. It was spectacular and calming because Mildred knew that, finally, nothing could hurt them and they were safe. Life, for now, couldn’t go any better.

As the car sped down the road, Mildred wondered what she should be expecting. They had never gone too far from the hotel and the familiar town was leaving room for the wild forest. No artificial lights if not for the car, parrots, and animals making noises, Mildred thought they were about to leave civilization. She swallowed; yes, she’d been to war and survived in the worst condition, but she’d sworn to herself never again. And now she cared about the quality of life, she was refined, and refused to go back.

“Tell me we’re not going camping.” Mildred said with a blank face, half-joking, half-serious.

Gwendolyn chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare.” She confirmed.

Mildred sighed in relief, but still wasn’t feeling completely calm. Mexico wasn’t America, but they had to be careful. She honestly felt safe only at the hotel - how couldn’t she? - and in the few places, they had already been to. Adventuring around like this made her feel nervous.

When night finally arrived, she rejoiced in the darkness that would at least hide them a little more. Gwendolyn was still driving, but she had slowed down considerably. Feeling they were getting close wherever they were heading, Mildred sat up in her seat and started to look curiously around.

She saw lights, she could hear sound and people talking and a clearance, right atop of a mountain, down a small road off the main one.

“Is that...?” Mildred gasped, lips parted as she marveled at the place.

“Do you like it?” Gwendolyn asked, nervously biting down her bottom lip. “I mean, it’s not a marionettes show, so I thought you liked this. Do you?”

Mildred nodded, still dazed.

“I haven’t been to a drive-in in like… forever?” She frowned deeply, surprised by her own words. “I remember watching the Wizard of Oz with my brother, but it was like an outdoor theater and they interrupted half-way through it to show some war reels.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, it’s alright!” Mildred reassured. “I’m excited, really.” She said sincerely, squirming on her seat in anticipation. “Thank you for taking me here.”

Gwendolyn peered at her with the corner of her eye and rested her hand atop her knee, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Anything to see that smile of yours.” She replied in a whisper.

Mildred could barely register everything that was happening, too lost in her enthusiasm, she felt like she was a child about to enter in the most amazing amusement park of all time: despite being full, she craved popcorn, sodas and cotton candy, she wanted hotdogs and watch the movie - any kind of movie - she wanted the full experience. After paying the ticket, Gwendolyn drove to a nice spot, not too close and not too far from the big screen, and took the speaker from the pole, pulling it into their car and settling the wire so that it wouldn’t be a bother for either of them.

Suddenly, Mildred tensed. There was a policeman or some kind of officer, she couldn’t exactly tell, roaming around with a flashlight, looking inside some cars. The woman inhaled, held her breath, and poked the other in her ribs.

“Relax.” Gwendolyn chuckled. “He’s just checking around.” She reassured.

Mildred felt silly. Of course, there was no one chasing after her or looking for her brother. She just had to let go. She was free. Life was hers for the taken.

They only had to wait a few minutes before the lamp-posts were turned off, and silently, the movie started to appear on the screen.

5...

Mildred was looking straight ahead of her.

4…

Gwendolyn was looking straight at Mildred.

3…

Mildred squeezed Gwendolyn’s hand.

2…

Their fingers intertwined.

1…

They leaned into each other and felt right at home.

The intro started to play and suddenly the car was filled with the gentle music of the beginning of  _ It Happened One Night _ . Mildred had never seen that movie, but Gwendolyn was humming that tune into her ear like she’d known the melody by heart. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling.

“You know, I wanted to marry Clark Gable when I was younger.” Chuckled Mildred, sighing dreamily in those past days. So many possibilities, so many hopes in that girl’s head, clueless about the real world.

“Well, I’m glad you changed your tastes.” Rebucked Gwendolyn.

“I don’t even know why.” The other woman frowned. “All the other girls were saying so, and I guess I wanted to fit in.”

“You don’t have to fit in anymore.” Gwendolyn whispered and rested her cheek on top of her red hair.

No, she didn’t have to. She didn’t have to be anyone different from just herself. A simple woman, who once was broken but now was mended, happy and in love, free and safe, hopeful for the future. Who would’ve thought? When she was a girl, she thought she wouldn’t have lived past puberty, then the war, her banishment from the field and the lies, all those lies to get Edmund back. Sure, maybe she would have never met Gwendolyn, maybe she would have continued living in deceit, asleep, for the rest of her life. And what a sad life without real love. There was a time she didn’t even believe herself worthy of love, that everyone took the love they deserved and since she thought so little of herself, she thought lust was the only thing she was entitled to, that she wasn’t capable of love… How wrong she was. She was only looking in the wrong direction. Gwendolyn was her beacon. The one who led her home, in more ways than one.

Mildred sighed as soon as she snapped out of her thoughts and realized that she’d missed practically half of the movie. She peeked shyly over and called Gwendolyn innocently.

“Why is he refusing the money?” She asked, hoping that the question wouldn’t give her away.

Gwendolyn turned slowly to her and let out a single, disbelieving chuckle.

“You zoned out again, didn’t you?” She said.

Mildred felt her cheek flush. “Only for one minute.”

“I doubt it.” The other replied.

“Did they get married?”

“Yes, about twenty minutes ago?”

At that point, Gwendolyn couldn’t contain her laugh.

“But-” Mildred sank deeper in her seat. She felt silly and ungrateful: Gwendolyn had gone through all that trouble, and she had nothing better to do than get distracted and miss the major event of the movie. The evening was ruined because of her.

“I just love you so much.” Gwendolyn commented, wiping tears from her eyes.

Mildred stared at her, utterly confused. She wasn’t offended then? Judging by her expression, she’d found the situation quite amusing.

“Are you laughing at me?”

Mildred’s half-befuddled face, only made it worse for Gwendolyn. She kept on laughing and being unable to stop, she just leaned into her and peppered kisses on her neck, both trying to soothe the possible inner turmoil and turn that frown into a smile.

“I’m laughing  _ with  _ you.” She said between breaths.

“I’m  _ not  _ laughing.” Mildred replied though she was grinning. “I love you too, by the way.” Placing a soft kiss on Gwnedolyn’s lips, she declared herself satisfied and returned to watch what was left of the movie. She couldn’t follow the plot decently, but now she was feeling like she wasn’t the only one who got distracted: even without looking, she knew that Gwendolyn was watching in her direction and not the movie. She could feel her glance on her like the midday sunbeams on her skin. Mildred tried her best to remain unbothered, but her mind took off anyway and she just waited for the ending title to roll on the screen. As soon as the soothing, romantic music released inside the car, however, she didn't have the chance to ask anything: Gwendolyn preceded her.

“Would you marry me?” She asked, looking directly at Mildred, a sly smirk on her lips, confident and like she’d just said the most natural, casual thing on earth. “If I were a man, would you marry me?”

Mildred blinked a few times trying to get herself out of that dumbness that had fallen upon her, but also trying to find the meaning behind that sentence. Was Gwendolyn testing her?

“No.” She muttered, clearing her throat. “It wouldn’t be you anymore.”

Gwendolyn closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

“No, I mean- Mildred, keep up with me, please.” She said, and the other woman noticed that her smile had disappeared. She shifted on her seat and turned, facing Mildred now. “I’m asking if you want to be my wife.”

Mildred stared at her blankly for a moment.

“What?”

“You heard me.” Gwendolyn confirmed, resting her arm on the back of the seat. She considered hugging her for a moment but then thought better to leave Mildred her space and time to just  _ think _ .

The woman was gasping, parting her lips without a single sound coming from them. Her chest heaved and dropped fast like she’d been running the Belmont Stakes.

“We can’t do that-” Mildred gasped finally, hand on her chest as if she was commanding her lungs to breathe at a reasonable pace. Then she froze. “Can we?” She asked, a sudden sparkle in her eyes.

Gwendolyn nodded ever-so-lightly. “Platonically. I don’t fancy the idea of spending the rest of my days in some asylum.” She kept smiling, unable to detach her eyes from Mildred as she reached in her jacket, found the inner pocket and drew a small velvet bag from it. “Here.” She whispered, offering it to Mildred.

The woman took it with shaky hands and loosened the string. She slid her fingers inside and pulled out a slim silver ring with an orange stone on top.

“Gwen…” She mumbled, glancing now at the ring, now at the person who gave it to her.

Gwendolyn was peering lovingly down at her, nibbling nervously at her lip.

“Do you like it?” She asked, tentatively. “It was my grandmother’s, see?” She reached down and took Mildred’s hand in hers, forcing her to turn around the ring so that her eyes could lay on the inscription inside. “May Richards.  _ M.R. _ ”

“Those are my initials.” Mildred beamed, smiling from ear to ear, heart thumping fast in her chest.

“Call it fate.” Gwendolyn shrugged. “So? What’d you say?” She finally asked, impatiently.

Mildred looked at her. She couldn’t believe someone had proposed to her - a woman no less - and that she loved dearly that someone. For some reason, she thought she’d never get married and if she did, before Gwendolyn of course, she’d always thought it would be out of convenience, or boredom, or because it was society expected from a woman. This… was entirely different. She wasn’t fitting in, quite the exact opposite. And she was happy.

“ _ Yes _ -” She breathed out. “ _ Yes _ , I want to marry you-” She repeated, frowning at the meaning of those words. “ _ Yes _ , I want to be your wife.” She shook her head, the title so strange and foreign in her head.

She just dove in when Gwendolyn kissed her, muffling any other words that might’ve come from her mouth within her lips. The ring was slid on her finger, but she became a fiancé, and a bride, and a wife all at the same time.

“There.” Gwendolyn stated proudly. “Now you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“But I have nothing to give you.” Mildred mumbled, suddenly feeling at fault. Gwendolyn was entitled too and she deserved a symbol of their love- but what? She reached for her purse and started a desperate searching. Which of her belongings could do? A handkerchief with her initials, a used lipstick, a broken brooch she kept forgetting there?

“Darling, stop.” Gwendolyn’s hand on hers was the gentle commander that told her to halt her quest. “I already have your heart, what more could I desire?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Gwen's grandma's name: Ally Mayfair-Richards from American Horror Story: Cult


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for my girlfriend who helped me create this Alternative Universe 💖

SAVE ONE IV

When the seventh or eighth car rushed past her, Mildred didn’t even have the strength to yell anymore. At first, she tried hitch-hiking in the traditional way, but after one pig had moved an indecent proposal in exchange for a lift, she just gave up, hoping someone would be kind enough to stop and take her in.

But then the rain started to pour and people only wanted to return home. She couldn’t even blame them. What would she do to have someplace to call home and, more importantly, somewhere to go back to.

After all those months serving the army, she’d almost forgot what the real world looked like, or how it sounded, or smelled, without the stinging scent of burned flesh or alcohol, when they still had any to cure the wounded. But now she had been banned from it and she was not a nurse anymore: she was just… Mildred. Someone with no future who hated remembering her past and who also didn’t know how nor if she’d ever survived the present.

Once they threw her off the train for the lack of tickets, she didn’t even bother to check where she was, too hungry and tired to actually care. As if it mattered, in the first place. She didn’t have a home, Edmund was somewhere in the world, perhaps locked away, she had no friends, so any place was as good as another.

It was already getting dark when her umbrella had flown away somewhere as she crossed a bridge, the strong wind catching her suddenly and snatching her only shelter from her hand, and her fingers got bruised in the process. After deciding to cut through the woods, she’d lost her left shoes in a small swamp and she’d refused to get on her knees to search for something that was probably already lost.

Now it was dead of night, or something like it because it was dark and she could barely see anything around her. She was wandering around, hobbling on her right shoe and bare foot, gripping the handle of her dented suitcase, her free hand pressing down on her drenched hat on her head as a last, desperate way to cling onto something. She was shaking from head to toe, reminding her to keep on walking because stopping now would’ve meant certain death of hypothermia. She had been a nurse in a desolate Warfield: she knew how things worked.

Mildred bit down her lip, hard enough to draw blood when she noticed that her eyesight had gotten blurred and her eyelids had become heavy. She focused on the coppery taste and the pain to keep herself alert.

She wasn’t sure she was dreaming or hallucinating when she saw the dark road glow faintly. It took her some time to realize that a car was approaching from behind. Her heart started to thump in anticipation, and Mildred turned, squeezing her eyes as she struggled to see - whether it was a good Christian or another drunk man, it wouldn’t have mattered. Or maybe a little. But she had to listen to her survival instinct now, and try to get all the best from every opportunity. She was ready for anything, really, but certainly wasn’t expecting a woman to pull over, car speeding ahead of her, almost cutting her way with the wheels.

Mildred instinctively jerked away, glaring at the driver for  _ almost  _ running over her. That was the worst rescue ever... if it was indeed one.

“Need a lift?” She heard the woman say, loud enough to overcome the pouring rain.

Mildred stared dumbly at her, breathing fast. For a moment she seriously considered the option of refusing, then bright lighting branched out in the dark sky and the sound that followed was so loud that Mildred thought the earth was shaking itself open.

“Yes, please.” She replied, frowning deeply when the woman laughed faintly. Was she laughing at her for being scared of lightings? Who wasn’t afraid of those, seriously?

She watched the woman stretching out to the passenger seat and unlocking the door for her. Mildred looked at the inside of the car for one moment, then, before another lighting could surprise her, she let herself slide inside.

Once the suitcase had been thrown in the backseat, she could only hear the rain pouring, but the drops would fall outside, on the ground, on the streets, on the leaves of the trees, on the car, but not on her.  _ What a blissful feeling _ . She sighed in relief and closed her eyes for a second.

Gwendolyn tilted her head to take the stranger in. Where did she come from? She surely looked miserable, all drenched, and missing a shoe, but everything about that mysterious woman was comically mysterious in a way that could only intrigue Gwendolyn. That woman didn’t belong there - that was crystal clear - but somehow, in some way, she did belong there, in that odd place of even odder people, where no one would mind their own business but at the same time glorified privacy in a very efficient way. Most of the time.

Gwendolyn had been there. For some strange casualty, she felt drawn to the mysterious, drenched woman.

“So, where are you going?” She inquired, gripping the steering wheel and ready to turn it whether the stranger would name some town in other directions.

Surprisingly, though, the woman looked outside the window, scrunched her face in a rather disgusted grimace, and then turned to look at her.

“Where are we?” She asked, almost outraged.

Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. “Monterey?” She said, almost singing the word. Of course, she wasn’t guessing where they were, she  _ knew  _ where they were, she only thought it was funny for her guest not to know where they were. “On the road to Monterey.” She specified. “I’m going there, anyway.”

The mysterious woman nodded slowly as if her mind had zoned out.

“Is there a place I can stay?” She asked, her voice soft. “Something cheap, I don’t have a lot of money with me.” She added and her teeth went to scrape her bottom lip.

Gwendolyn frowned when she saw that the chapped skin got stained in red almost immediately. That was even stranger. She honestly didn’t know what to say - the woman was probably lying about that and she owned nothing. As to prove her theory, her stomach started to grumble loudly and vain as the woman tried to muffle the sound with her hand.

“When was the last time you ate?” Asked Gwendolyn, worriedly. What and who did she just welcome into her car? The situation was far more complicated than she could’ve ever imagined.

“I don’t- remember.” The other replied with a small voice, averting her inquiring eyes.

Gwendolyn flattened against her seat. Well, she’d just let a damsel in distress climb into her car. She was waiting for the opportunity all her life and now that it was happening, rather than pride for herself, she felt incredibly sad for the girl sitting next to her. She’s always laughed at nurses and their redcross mindset, yet now she was turning into one because she just  _ had  _ to help her, anyway, she could. Also, she could see that under that floppy hat there was a wild mane of auburn hair, and fair features currently beaten up by the rain. Gwendolyn just couldn’t say no to her.

“Do you have a name?” She asked tentatively, hoping she was not a runaway wife escaping from a violent husband, or some kind of murderer - with that face? She’d been reading too many novels - so she would tell Gwendolyn her real one.

“Mildred.” The woman said, shivering still.

Gwendolyn started the car. She hadn’t met many Mildred in her life, actually, she was positive that was the first Mildred she’d ever encountered and she had to admit, she rather liked how the name sounded. It fitted the mysterious woman in her car, at least: peculiar, sharp, classy despite everything.

Hoping it wouldn’t actually look like - or turn into - a kidnap, Gwendolyn locked her eyes in the rear-view mirror and made a u-turn.

The car had just reached a decent speed when she noticed Mildred slowly sinking into the seat, and before she could even utter a word, she had lowered herself so much that the nape of her neck was now resting on the edge of the seat.

“Is the place far?” The woman slurred. Gwendolyn opened her mouth, uncertain whether to tell the truth about her intentions or not, but only a strangled gasp escaped. “Do you mind if I just close my eyes for a moment?”

Gwendolyn averted her eyes from the road to answer her, but when she did, Mildred had already dozed off. Gwendolyn thought she just had to be extremely exhausted to fall asleep into somebody’s car like that. Thankfully, she wasn’t a maniac or something, although most of the people would argue about her sanity… but that was just a fallacy in society.

When she pulled down in her driveway after only being gone for forty minutes, Gwendolyn sighed loudly. Never in her life, she’d been for that little time on a Saturday night, especially when she’d plans of visiting her favorite bar hidden in the woods, determined to make some pleasurable acquaintances or get some inspiration, in the very least.

And now life had offered her a turn, and glancing over a still sleeping Mildred, she wondered whether it was a promising one.

The rain had stopped pouring, and Mildred had stopped shaking for good, although she believed the woman had to be quite cold in those drenched clothes. She took her purse and fished out her house key, then placed her hand on Mildred’s shoulder and shook her gently until her eyes fluttered open.

“Mildred?” She called, voice low not to startle her since her eyes were already darting everywhere in confusion. “You’re fine.” She assured, giving her a smile.

“Where are we?” She asked, furrowing her brow.

“My house. Can you walk?” Gwendolyn inquired, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. How could she propose to spend the night without making it sound ridiculously creepy or indecent?

“You want me to go to your house?” Mildred asked, voice high as she lifted herself up into a more normal sitting position. “Are you even married?”

Gwendolyn let out a bittersweet chuckle and lowered her eyes.

“No, I’m not married.” She confessed. “Look, I get it if you don’t want my help, but I believe you’ve got no money whatsoever and, frankly, this is your best chance to survive the night.” She said sternly.

Gwendolyn could almost see the clogs moving inside her head: Mildred took a sharp intake of air, held it, let it out, playing with her fingers, nails digging for some inexistent dirt under the white brim of other nails, then she turned to face the other woman.

“I don’t have good experiences with houses.” She whispered with a dim voice.

Gwendolyn frowned, unable to fully comprehend the meaning of that.

“It’s a perfectly decent house, I promise.” She mumbled back, hoping that information would suffice.

“I’m sure it is.” Mildred rebuked.

By that point, the older woman was completely lost. Since the first moment, she’d laid her eyes upon her, that girl was a complete contradiction.

“So, will you come in?” She asked tentatively, raising her brow so high it almost touched her hairline.

Mildred stared at her for a long moment, then hinted a smile, and nodded.

Mildred entered that house as if she was setting foot in a church. Looking at the furniture as if she’d never seen something similar, guilty because she was soiling the marble floor with her dirty shoes.  _ Shoe _ , that was. And foot.

She considered leaving for a moment, saying that this had been a mistake, but Gwendolyn had a hold on her suitcase, which contained her whole life, hence when the woman rushed inside, Mildred followed, arms almost stretched out as she chased down her precious suitcase.

When she put it down next to the kitchen table, Mildred took a seat on the nearest chair, making sure something of her was touching the surface of the suitcase, to be constantly aware of its presence, just in case.

She carefully watched Gwendolyn bouncing around the kitchen, diving into the cabinets, clearly searching for something.

“We’ll put something in your stomach, clean you up, and get you into bed.” She was mumbling to herself, but Mildred was too busy unpinning her hat and settling it on top of the table, struggling to look decent despite having lost shape due to the rain. It was her favorite hat.

“Ah-” Gwendolyn exclaimed, showing off a bag of sliced bread. “I’ve got nothing ready to eat and I think I only have… bologna. My best friend must’ve left it here. I know. You can eat the bread.” She said hurriedly, making a disgusted grimace.

Mildred although, immediately brightened up.

“What’s wrong with bologna? It’s perfectly nutritious.” She rebuked, repeating the same things one of the family used to say when there was nothing else to eat. There had been a time when she loathed bologna, of course, but then when she was in the war, and could only eat disgusting soups and oatmeal, bologna was the only thing she craved.

“Suit yourself, then.” Gwendolyn happily handed her the bread, the bologna, a knife, and a piece of butter to spread and add some well-needed calories.

“Thank you.” She said, already busy buttering the bread evenly and settling everything down neatly, in the precise order that met her tastes. Honestly, she didn’t mind the other woman staring at her. At least was it implicit she was grateful for everything and not just the sandwich?

“Would you like something with that?” She asked, a small frown wrinkling her brow, leaning against the table with one hand, the other resting on her hip, closed into a fist. “Water, wine, some Bourbon?”

“Milk.” She said promptly, almost as if she was waiting for that question.

Gwendolyn bit her inner cheek. “I’m afraid I don’t have milk.” She said sheepishly.

“Who hasn’t milk in their fridge?” Mildred asked calmly, biting down one angle of her freshly made sandwich.

At that remark, Gwendolyn couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Me, apparently.” She shook her head slowly and went to the sink, filling up the kettle. “I’ll make you some hot tea, alright?”

After the kettle had whistled and the tea had been poured into two similar cups, Mildred finally felt warmer, the tension thawing away from her body to be swiftly replaced with exhaustion. Heaving a sigh, she tapped her nails on the thick china, her eyes tentatively laying on the woman in front of her.

“I- thank you.” Mildred said sincerely. “You didn’t have to do-- all this.”

Gwendolyn gave her a smile, resting her elbow on the back of her chair as she looked at Mildred. “I beg to differ.” She replied.

The younger woman couldn’t suppress a smile. She could argue that out of twenty cars, more or less, she’d been the only one to stop and actually care for a wandering person soaked under the rain. And who would take a stranger home, offering food, a warm refreshment without asking for anything in return?

“You’re so kind to me and you don’t even know me.” Said Mildred, matter-of-factly. “I mean, I could be… a murderer.”

At that, Gwendolyn scoffed and laughed. “You? A murderer?”

“What’s so funny about it?” Mildred inquired. For some reason, she was offended by that chuckle. Didn’t the woman consider her brave enough? What did she even know about death? There were days in the camp where she thought she could see the hooded knight with the scythe because of all the dead soldiers around.

“I simply don’t see you as a murderer, that’s all.” Gwendolyn replied sincerely, then she got up and retrieved both of the mugs to put those in the sink. “Now, I’ll draw you a bath and while you clean up I’ll prepare the guest room.”

Mildred shook her head. That was… too much. She felt like she was exploiting the kindness of her savior on one hand, but on the other, it felt nice to have someone taking care of her, almost as if she was a child again, but this time she’d been assigned to someone decent. But still, bathing in a stranger’s bathroom? Sleeping into a stranger’s bed? Maybe even borrowing clothes?

“I- I, can’t-” She mumbled, following her as Gwendolyn walked toward her.

“No, you  _ must _ .” The older woman specified. “You’re not getting into any bed of mine like that.” She said, commanding.

Mildred stared at her. Knowing she wouldn’t get away with any excuse and, more importantly, she wouldn’t be even allowed to sit on the floor while being that dirty, she deemed the request acceptable and followed Gwendolyn upstairs.

Gwendolyn couldn’t sleep a blink, that night. Usually, the guest room would remain intact if a girl was sleeping over… but that just wasn’t a normal situation, was it? At some point, she flung out of her bed, frustrated for the lack of drowsiness, and sat down at her desk. She tried to rearrange her notes, pulled some papers out of the trash can, and unwrinkle some of those which seemed salvable, after all. She scribbled on some others. The words soon transformed into meaningless doodles of geometric figures under the black trait of her pen. This wasn’t working.

Gwendolyn sighed loudly and decided to take a few drops of sleeping-drug, even only to knock off her brain and avoid thinking about impossible scenarios.

In the morning, she peeked out of her room, her head turned to the guest room to see if Mildred was already awake or not. She considered knocking for a moment, then decided to head downstairs to prepare some breakfast. Remembering she didn’t have anything suitable for a meal, she rushed to the phone and called her trusty neighbor, hating the idea of leaving Mildred alone in the house. Besides, her best friend wouldn’t mind at all - she’d done that thousand of times already.

Satisfied, she took a breath and tried to decide what to do while waiting for Mildred to come down. Maybe she could get some of the desk work done? Before she could answer herself, she heard a noise coming from the kitchen. Frowning, she followed it.

“Mildred?” She called, surprised to see her in a circle dress of a faint yellow and matching heels organizing things in her fridge. Things that weren’t hers.

“Good Morning!” The woman gleefully greeted, showing off her work. “I woke up early and strolled around your neighbor, then I went to the store and bought some things for you.” She explained. “To pay you back?”

Gwendolyn could only stare at her, utterly befuddled. With what money? She didn’t want to know. That woman was just unpredictable. And it was also impossible to tell if that pleased Gwendolyn on some weird level or freaked her out immensely.

“Thank you.” She mumbled back, almost automatically.

“You know what, I don’t even know your name.”

Gwendolyn nibbled at her bottom lip. She didn’t like telling people her name, in fact, most of the time, she ended up giving a false one. In this case, however, she felt she was beyond lying.

“Gwendolyn Briggs.”

Mildred nodded and smiled. A normal nod and a normal smile. Alright, she wasn’t entitled to a standing ovation, but she couldn’t say it didn’t hurt just a bit not to be recognized.

“I’ve made you something.” She said then, already walking away.

Gwendolyn followed her with her eyes as she left.

She decided to indulge her although she would usually take a cup of black coffee, a couple of biscuits if she felt like it, and waited for lunch to eat something specific. Gwendolyn deemed big breakfast a waste of time, since mornings were her favorite time to work. Today, however, she had to change plans. As she laid down on her couch, legs tucked beneath her, she enjoyed the egg-bagel joint with the little act Mildred had put out for her unknowingly: biting her own, the woman was pacing around the room, studying her paintings and tilting her head to the side to read each title from her collections of books. Gwendolyn felt her heart thumping faster when the younger woman stopped and took one out.

“That’s you!” She cried out, lips parted. “You’re a writer.”

Gwendolyn nodded, smiling proudly now. “I am.” She leaned against the couch, getting comfortable as she finished her bagel, and rested her arm on the padded backrest. Her confidence, though, drained out when she saw Mildred putting the book back with a blank face.

“I only read poetry.” She declared and returned to eat her bagel as if nothing remotely remarkable had happened.

Gwendolyn was confused. And intrigued. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What a strange woman you are.”

Mildred turned sharply toward her at the remark and glared.

“Is that a compliment?”

“In a way.” Gwendolyn nodded, small movements of her head and she wiped a few crumbs off her lips, but noticing that the younger woman wasn’t smiling at all, she closed her eyes and smiled as she corrected herself. “ _ Yes _ . Yes, it is.”

Gwendolyn knew she wasn’t convinced at all, and a part of her felt guilty at the thought of having offended her, but what else could she do? Mildred seemed just a girl... flung out of space.

She stood there, not really knowing what to say or do, when the doorbell rang, saving her from that awkward moment. She crumpled the empty napkin in her hand and rushed to the door.

“I’ve brought you some goods.” The woman said, not really paying much attention.

“Thanks, but we managed.”

“ _ We _ ?” She chuckled. “Already?”

As always, Betsy didn’t give her any time before throwing herself in, a paper bag in hand, eyes curiously darting around. Gwendolyn tried to stop her, warn her about the situation, but Betsy was now temporarily deaf, and when Mildred appeared from the library, she could almost sense disaster approaching.

“Hello.” She greeted, voice full of mirth.

Gwendolyn reminded herself to stay focused.

“This is my best friend Betsy.” She said, clearing her throat and begging silently for the woman not to act too oddly. But of course, she did.

Before she could even think about explaining, Betsy leaned into her and poked her ribs with her elbow as if Mildred wasn’t even there in the first place.

“Wow, Gwenny, you got yourself a very yummy cookie.”

Gwendolyn closed her eyes and heaved a loud sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Betsy, it’s not like that-” She tried, but of course Mildred had noticed: she might’ve been weird, but not stupid.

“A what?”

And now that the milk had been spilled, Betsy looked up at Gwendolyn, pulling her face into a forced, guilty grimace. “Oh. Oopsie.” She started to shrink down on herself and took a few steps back. “Sorry.” She whispered. “So very sorry. Imma ditch.” She mumbled, quickly sliding out the front door.

Gwendolyn still didn’t dare to open her eyes back. It was rare, if not impossible, that people accepted such a ‘lifestyle’ without being personally involved. Mildred was a stranger. For all she knew, she could’ve been a very religious person and already planning to burn up the house of a sinner. Maybe she would’ve screamed, outing her in the worst of ways, exposing her and Betsy perhaps, to the whole neighbor. It was indeed a disaster; one she had to solve quickly.

“Mildred, I’m sorry.” She mumbled, not entirely sure her words would be useful. “It’s not what you think, I-”

She watched as Mildred swallowed through an obviously dry throat, swayed, eyes dropping to the floor. Gwendolyn could almost see the cogs inside her brain moving, jamming, and then moving again.

“You don’t know what I think.” The younger woman replied through a choked wheeze.

“You’re right.” Gwendolyn agreed. At least she wasn’t yelling, nor running away. The woman dared to walk closer. “Betsy is my oldest and dearest friend.” She explained, chewing her lip nervously.

“What were you thinking when you brought me home last night?” Mildred blurted out, jaw tightening.

“Nothing, I swear.” Gwendolyn replied promptly. “I just wanted to help you.”

Mildred nodded ever-so-lightly, then she frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me about… you?”

Gwendolyn bent her lips into a bittersweet smile. Why? Because most of the people would label people like her freaks and other awful names, and because some others wouldn’t hesitate to call the closest asylum, and because the rest of them would just show violence as a reply.

“It wouldn’t change anything.” The woman said, folding her arms. “You needed help.” She pointed out, then shook her head. “You don’t understand-”

“No.  _ You  _ don’t understand.” Mildred said, almost yelling, and for the first time perhaps, Gwendolyn stopped thinking about her own fear of telling and realized that Mildred was on the verge of tears herself: her eyes were watery, her whole body shook. The older woman’s heart melted; her first instinct would be to hold her, but of course, she couldn’t do that, not now especially.

“Mildred-” She started, but her breath caught. Those last two minutes had been a rollercoaster and now she couldn’t make head nor tail of anything. She exhaled loudly and frowned. “What’s going on?”

“You… you didn’t even ask me how I ended up there, wandering alone on the road at night.” Mildred murmured, eyes low, fixed on the sharp, tormenting movements of her hands as she played with her own fingers nervously. “Not that I’m complaining, of course, but-”

“I was afraid you were running away from something horrible-” Gwendolyn sighed, feeling suddenly defeated. She was right, even in the morning, she didn’t ask anything about her, just happy that Mildred was there, in her house. That was suspicious and slightly rude too. “You’re right.” She breathed out in the agreement. “What were you doing out there?”

Mildred hinted a shy smile, but her head stayed bowed down. “You should ask me what I do-  _ did _ … for a living.”

“Alright,” the older woman indulged her with a sweeter voice, “what did you do for a living?”

“I was a nurse.” Mildred whispered, the words coming out of her mouth as if they weighed tons. “Combat nurse.” She specified.

Gwendolyn felt herself tearing up at that. The wound was an old one, mended, but sometimes, especially when she felt like that, it still seemed fresh. “What happened?” She asked hesitantly, clearing her throat to cover her shaky voice.

“My commanding officer, he-” Mildred started but stopped abruptly to catch a breath.

Gwendolyn felt rage building within her at the mere thought of someone taking advantage of someone like Mildred. Even if she didn’t know the woman so well, she’d saved her that night, hence she was her responsibility: now it was her job to protect her. All her life she’d searched for a reason to hate men and now… “He, what?” She tried, clenching her jaw tight.

“He banned me.” Mildred sighed.

_ Oh _ . Gwendolyn wasn’t expecting that. She frowned, confused.

“Banned you? Why?”

“Because… one night- it was late and we were tired and homesick and- I kissed a fellow nurse.” Mildred told her, eyes lost as she remembered the exact moment. Gwendolyn could feel her pain, she’d been there before. “I mean, it was consensual, we both wanted it, but she called me out when someone saw us, and she accused me of assault.”

That was despicable. No one deserved that. “That’s awful.”

“I just ran, but I had nowhere to go,” Mildred resumed, “in the Warfield, people go nuts every day, and I thought- I thought I was losing my head as well.” She sighed. Gwendolyn could only reach out for her hand when she saw the first tears rolling down her cheeks. Surprisingly, her heart leaped when Mildred not only accepted the contact but squeezed her hand in return. 

“No- no, you’re not insane, Mildred.” Gwendolyn offered. She reached out with her free hand and dared to lay two fingers under her chin, forcing her head up gently. “You’re perfectly fine.” She said reassuringly.

Mildred stared at her in disbelieving. She let out a wet chuckle and sighed.

“Am I?”

“What happened to you is terrible.” Gwendolyn said sincerely. “But unfortunately or fortunately you are not alone.” The woman sighed and offered a smile. “You’re just like me.”

“I’m just like you?”

“...and other billions of people who have been heartbroken.”

“That’s comforting.” Rebuked Mildred skeptically, but at least Gwendolyn was happy to see that genuine smile creeping out of her damp lips.

“You just had a very bad experience, but our situation is no different from a traditional one.” Gwendolyn shrugged, trying to sound reassuring. Her thumb brushed against her chin, wiping away the residue of a fallen tear. “You’ll be fine, you just need to find the right person.”

Mildred scoffed. “As if it were simple.”

Gwendolyn shifted on the couch closer to her. She swallowed, and her eyes dropped on the younger woman’s parted lips. “Well, sometimes she appears on the side of the road during a storm.”

Carefully, almost as if time had frozen or slowed down at least, Mildred rose her glance, meeting hers. “And others she appears on the side of the road to save you from the storm?”

Gwendolyn didn’t dare to answer in words. When she leaned forward, it was more than enough to see Mildred doing the same and when their lips finally touched, soft and timid at first, she heard bells chiming and a thrill going down her spine. It was almost electrical, like anything she’d ever felt before.

And Mildred must’ve felt it too, because when they parted, her dark eyes were glimmering, and she was even more beautiful than ever. Even if she didn’t like the expression, Betsy had been right to call her a  _ cookie _ . She chuckled at the thought, but her smile grew even wider when it was Mildred, the one smiling back at her. Even though she was silent, Gwendolyn could hear a whole world taking form between the two of them, all the things they still had to discover about one another, all the possibilities within reach.

“Mildred,” She breathed out, resting their foreheads together, “since you don’t have a place to go, would you like to stay here?”

“Aren’t we going a little too fast?” Chuckled Mildred, though her remark came with a light giggle.

“Frankly, I don’t see why we should waste time.”

* * *

*around the 40s, a  _ cookie  _ was a cute girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a wrap for me, thank you everyone for commenting. Bye!


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